Plan B
by PinkElephant5
Summary: They weren't dating. They were Together with a capital T, and the world at large was about to find out. And she had nothing to wear. Mostly fluff, post-post-Always.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**: First-time poster, so please forgive any fanfic etiquette I've missed. Vague references to how the Always cliffhangers resolve are from my unposted, post-Always work-in-progress (don't we all have one?), but this story popped out faster. So here it is. Following chapters are written and I will post soon. **EDIT**: (6/27/12) I changed the movie in question from _Naked Heat_ to _Heat Wave_ since I realized my timeline was totally off. Duh. Please let me know if I missed any references.

Reviews coveted!

* * *

"No." Lanie Parish shook her head decisively. "Not that one."

Kate Beckett looked again at the the dress she was holding up. "What's wrong with this one? You helped me buy it!"

Lanie was not moved by the appeal. "Not for this occasion, I didn't. Too tight and too sparkly. For declaring that Bachelor #9 has a new Flavor of the Week? Yes. For declaring that Bachelor #9 is officially off the market? No. C'mon, girl, don't you speak Page Six?"

"Apparently not." Kate added the dress to the mounting pile on her bed and sighed in exasperation, remembering a very similar scene. Many things had changed in the four years since Castle took her to a black tie charity ball in order to track down a suspect, but judging by the results of Lanie's ongoing wardrobe consultation, Kate still didn't know how to dress for high society.

The movie adaptation of_ Heat Wave_ was opening next week, and the stars were in New York to do the talk show circuit. Also on the agenda was tonight's cocktail-party-slash-meet-and-greet-slash-media-photo-op with the cast, crew, author and Nikki Heat's real-life inspiration. What the press, movie people, and Castle's publisher didn't know yet was that the behind-the-scenes story had recently become as interesting as the on-screen action. Never mind last week's scandal in Washington that brought down a highly-placed U.S. senator, since the world at large still didn't know about their involvement. The press were about to get a money shot of the artist and the muse in love and in public, after years of speculation, and just in time to promote the movie.

Of course, that wasn't the point of choosing to be seen together (_together_) in public. It was just an unfortunate side effect. The choice was actually Kate's. The topic had bubbled to the surface Monday morning, a few days after the clear and present danger of Maddox and his puppet master had given way to the beginnings of normalcy.

* * *

Kate was lying in bed at the loft, curled up on her side, Castle's arm draped over her waist in his sleep, their body heat mingling across the inches where they weren't touching. Or they had been asleep; now they were both newly awake, and each knew the other was awake, but neither was willing to disturb their moment of peace quite yet.

Castle was the first to blink in the I'm-not-awake-staring-contest. He drew her back into a spoon hug, tucked his chin into her neck, and hummed low in her ear what could pass as a morning greeting. She breathed in deep and let it out slowly.

"I wonder if I should go in and talk to Gates. I wonder if she ever processed my resignation."

"Your employment status did seem a little vague when we last left the precinct," he agreed, and then perked up with a sudden idea. "This may be the perfect Schroedinger's Job moment."

She turned to face him, giving her brain a moment to catch up with his Castle-logic. "Are you saying that I both have and do not have a job right now-"

"-as long as you don't look directly at it!" he finished triumphantly. "The proper way to respond is to not go to work; going in would be like opening the box. By not doing anything work-related, you will remain both gainfully employed and free of actual responsibility."

"So more like you?"

"Don't be jealous of my quantum existence."

"Don't you have three chapters due tomorrow?"

"Cat killer." He propped up on one elbow and traced his fingers through her hair. "Seriously, though. Let's get out of the city today. Drive to the beach, hunt truffles in the woods, fly to Minneapolis, whatever. Your conversation with Gates and my chapters can both wait one more day."

"How did you ever manage to write 27-"

"29!"

"-books using the Scarlett O'Hara method?"

"Must be another mystery of physics. Probably involving time travel, wormholes and a planet made entirely of caffeine." He pressed on. "But think about it. All of our people know we're together now; all the ones that matter, anyway. It wouldn't come as a shock to anyone if we both disappeared for a day. Not after the week we've had."

"That reminds me of something I've been meaning to talk to you about." She propped up on an elbow as well. "Castle, you're famous."

"Thanks for remembering."

"Your love life ends up on Page Six on a regular basis. The only reason we haven't become celebrity gossip fodder yet is that we've been too busy staying alive the last week to go anywhere in public together. Besides crime scenes."

Castle cut in. "Personally, I don't know why the gossip rags don't see the romantic potential of early morning coffee dates over a dead body in an alley."

"Yeah, shocker. But my point is, it's only a matter of time before someone catches on and we get blind-sided at a newsstand by some grainy shot of us having dinner."

Castle frowned. "I'm sorry to drag you into that part of my life, but there's not much we can do about it. Unless you're suggesting I quit writing, or we only go out in public ninja-style."

"No, Castle, I'm not looking for an apology, or ninjas." He looked a little disappointed about the ninjas. "I knew exactly what I was signing up for, being with you. If I could handle all the fallout from Nikki Heat, I'll manage this. What I'm saying is, if the senator couldn't control us, I'm certainly not going to let some low-life paparazzi dictate what we do and where we go."

"So if the ninjas are out, what are you suggesting?"

She smiled. "I'm saying we take control of the situation. We don't wait for rumors to catch up with us. We tear off the Band-Aid ourselves, and then move on with our lives."

"Ah, a preemptive gossip strike," he said, catching her drift at last. "I think I know just the place to do it."

* * *

Cynics would probably remark that the timing was a little too profitable to be a coincidence. Even though it was her idea to "go public," Beckett was dreading the coming attention; they couldn't have picked a worse time for their big reveal, if they valued their privacy at all. Which she did.

Of course, Castle's publicist had not been present the stormy night Kate appeared at the loft, or the morning they hatched the plan, and had therefore been unavailable for consultation. As far as Kate was concerned, this was between her and Castle. Let the press have their fun, and she would do her best to ignore it. Or at least endure it. After all, what were their other options? Avoid cameras for the rest of their lives? (Mentally she questioned and then promptly ignored what she meant by that timeline.) Pretend in public that nothing had changed? After all they'd been through in the last two weeks (four years), she was done hiding from this.

Despite the uncomfortable level of exposure, she could almost appreciate the efficiency with which she was starting her new life with no (okay, fewer) walls. By Sunday morning, eight million New Yorkers and beyond would all be informed at once of something she'd been afraid to admit to herself for years. If she had any doubts, she would be freaking out right about now.

She wasn't freaking out. Much.

Still in front of her beleaguered closet, Kate reminded her best friend, "I have gone to Castle's book events before, you know. It's not like we've called a press conference to announce our relationship status."

Lanie gave her a pointed look. "Have you seen the two of you together? Trust me, any public appearance you make at this point will be an announcement."

"We're not like that," Kate protested. "Are we?"

"Oh, you try to hold it in for the sake of us less-fortunates. But all that soulmate mojo leaks out anyway."

"Come on, I have never called us 'soulmates.' "

Lanie shrugged. "Fine. But just because you're not telling Castle he completes you doesn't make it any less disgusting for the rest of us to witness."

"Is it really that bad?"

"Yes," Lanie said baldly.

"Great. I've become one of those people."

Lanie cut her a break by explaining, "It's not that you've turned all marshmallows and rainbows. Mostly, you two act the same way you always have. Gazing into each other's eyes, finishing each other's sentences..." Beckett rolled her eyes. "Deny it all you want, but you and Castle have always had chemistry. Now it's pretty obvious that there's something more." Was Kate Beckett blushing? Lanie smirked. "That's not what I meant. Though since you mention it, are you trying to fit four years worth of sex into two weeks? Because I don't recommend it, medically or socially. Even if he does complete you.

"But that's not my point. You're a little disgusting to watch because what you two have is rare, and it's a gift, and you finally tore the bow off and opened it. Who wants to see that when they haven't got it?" Kate started to say something, but Lanie put her hands up to finish. "But I'll gladly endure the single woman's burden of bitterness to see you happy. After all you've been through, you deserve it."

"Thanks, Lanie." Kate smiled at her friend before her next thought suddenly wiped the smile off her face. "You haven't told Castle any of this, have you?"

Lanie shuddered. "Absolutely not. I'm glad to see him get the twinkle back in his eye, but he's already inclined to think he's God's gift without hearing it from me."

Kate breathed a sigh of relief and shook her head. "Amen to that," she said, and took the next dress out of her closet. "How about this one?" But even she didn't think it was a likely suspect.

Lanie did not dignify the unfortunate ruffles with a response. "I'm surprised Castle didn't step in and play fairy godmother again."

"He wanted to, but I threatened him with bodily harm if he tried, and not the fun kind. I am a grown woman; I can dress myself."

"Under normal circumstances, yes. But this is Hollywood, baby, and you're about to get your biggest 15 minutes yet. In case you hadn't noticed, you are dating a millionaire with very good taste, and he adores you. Let the man buy you a dress once in a while."

Dating. Was she dating Castle? In the two weeks they'd been together, that word had not once occurred to Kate. In the strictest sense, tonight's outing would be their first date. In the course of one dark and stormy night they had basically skipped from complicated friends and work partners to a serious, established couple. Not that they didn't have all sorts of things to work through, because they did. But still, they weren't dating. They were Together with a capital T. And the world at large was about to find out.

And she had nothing to wear.

* * *

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN**: _Thank you, everyone, for all the reviews and alerts! You are making my maiden posting voyage a lot of fun. :)_

_Apologies to **chezchuckles** for doubling up on your title in the same fandom. D'oh! If only I'd done a title search 5 minutes before I posted instead of 5 minutes after..._

**DISCLAIMER**_: Oops, forgot this last time. These are not my toys. But I'd like to think I play well with others._

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Castle fiddled with his hair with one hand and lightly bounced a small grocery bag in the other while he waited for Kate to answer her doorbell. She had wanted to meet him at the loft, but he insisted on picking her up.

"What, were you hoping to meet my dad and assure him of your good intentions?" she had joked earlier that day as they sat on stools in his kitchen, finishing lunch. Secretly she was pleased that he also recognized this as their first official date and that his old-fashioned streak was kicking in.

"Of course not," he'd replied. "I would deflect and evade rather than lie to your father about my intentions." He had waggled his eyebrows and grinned lecherously, dragging her dramatically into a tight embrace. She had let a slow, seductive smile spread across her face and brought her lips within a half-inch of his before she spoke.

"Chocolate."

He had blinked at the non sequitur. "—what?"

"My dad won't be there, but I will, and if you want to impress me enough to get a second date, I expect to see chocolate." She put a finger to his lips and pushed off. She didn't even turn around on her way to the door as she added, "Pick me up at 9."

It was now 8:59 p.m., and the door opened to reveal Lanie. "Come on in, Castle. She's almost ready."

Castle headed for the kitchen with the contents of the bag as he asked, "Will you be playing the part of the scary, protective father this evening? I can give you some tips from the voice of experience."

Lanie snorted. "Since I know for a fact that she has already taken full advantage of you," ("Oh so many times," he added with a mock sigh), "then I'm obviously too late to save your virtue. You're on your own."

"As long as she's there with me, I'm not complaining."

Lanie shook her head. "That made no sense. But still managed to be romantic. And kind of poetic."

Beckett's voice sounded from the doorway to her bedroom. "That's why they pay him the big bucks."

Castle turned, and his next quip died in his throat.

Her black dress alternately hugged and flowed over all her curves. Her usual 4-inch heels and a cocktail-length hem meant that her legs were displayed at their shapely best, and the neckline managed to simultaneously cover her scar, show just enough cleavage, and leave the observer wanting more. Of course, when it came to Kate Beckett, wanting more was not a new experience for Castle. He took a few steps toward her, eyes settling on her face after an appreciative sweep.

"You look stunning."

"Thanks. You look stunned." They both grinned. Point Beckett.

Lanie gave an exaggerated sigh. "That's my cue. My work here is done. You kids have fun hob-nobbing with the rich and famous," she cut a glance at Castle, "or at least the richer and famouser. I look forward to seeing you in the funny papers tomorrow. Remember: don't eat anything with spinach." She gathered up her purse and headed out the door.

Castle gave Kate another admiring head-to-toe-to-head look. "So where'd you find the dress? And don't say 'this old thing?' because I won't believe you."

"Can't a girl have her secrets, Castle?" Kate gave him what she hoped was an inscrutable look to postpone his inevitable deduction. It didn't last long.

"She could," he said, "if she didn't get Martha Rogers involved. At which point all hopes of long-term secrecy are doomed."

Beckett dropped the poker face. "She told? I don't believe it!"

"She didn't have to. The satisfied smirk on her face as I left home was a dead giveaway that she knew something about my evening that I didn't. And once I saw the dress— well, it has Victor's impeccable instincts written all over it. You called my mother, and she called her inside man at Saks for an emergency dress delivery."

Kate decided to concede this one gracefully. After all, it had only been a matter of time before he found out. Despite her insistence that she pay for it herself, Kate was fairly sure that Martha had charged the dress and shoes to her son's credit card. "You were right. I had nothing to wear."

Castle, in turn, chose not to start their first date on the wrong foot by gloating. "And now you do, and it's fantastic; everybody wins." He offered her his arm. "Are you ready for your close-up?"

She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow and practiced her gracious smile on him. "Let's go rip this Band-Aid off."

* * *

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:**_ As far as I know, the setting for this chapter is entirely fictional. If you're not familiar with the song referenced below, go look it up immediately. The story doesn't require it, but you do. ;)_

* * *

The town car pulled up in front of the trendy restaurant/night club that had been rented out for the private event. Castle handed Beckett out, and she took his arm as she made a visual sweep of the area: a moderate collection of spectators, photographers, and none-too-subtle Hollywood bodyguards, and a scattering of lights still burning in the surrounding buildings. They both kept their eyes forward and their faces pleasantly bland as they walked toward the door.

"Old habits, Detective?"

"Hardly. I'm not ruling out the possibility that I'll need an escape route before the night is out."

"With my iron-clad plan? Not a chance."

Kate grunted her reservations with that statement. In the car they had discussed how to proceed this evening. No surprise, Castle had an elaborate scenario concocted. It involved dropping a number of indirect hints to people throughout the night until the speculation regarding them reached a fever pitch (his words). Then after paying off the band to play "I Could Write a Book" by Rodgers and Hart, he would sweep her into the middle of the dance floor ("or you could sweep me, either way is fine") and they would dance cheek to cheek until, in the magic of the moment, they would forget they had an audience and exchange a tender kiss.

Knowing that it was pointless to try and derail Castle's imagination when he was on a roll, Beckett had merely said, "How about we play it by ear and see how that goes?"

"Fine," he'd said, "but I reserve the right to sweep if the moment arises."

"Okay, Martha."

They announced themselves to the doorman, and after checking the guest list he ushered them in. "Welcome, Mr. Castle. Ms. Beckett. Enjoy your evening."

The club, called The Precinct, had been chosen for obvious reasons. The space had been an actual police station until it was shut down in favor of a larger space in the 1960's. After passing through several hands, new ownership had renovated it to look much like it did in the 1920's and '30's, complete with arched entrances, twin lamps flanking the front door, and plenty of exposed brick in the interior, paired with modern lighting design. Mug shots of Al Capone, Lucky Luciano, and other mobsters of the era graced the walls. The bar was all polished oak and brass, either a contemporary piece or a very good replica. Ironic, Kate thought. This was not the kind of place where actual cops could afford to grab a beer after leaving work in their real police stations.

The party was already well underway, with people standing in small clumps, chatting away over cocktails and high-end hors d'oeuvres. A youngish blonde man spotted them from across the room and headed toward them.

Castle nodded toward him. "That's Dylan Edwards, the director."

"Yeah, I recognize him from Access Hollywood. What happened to Tony?"

"The director you met in L.A.?" She nodded. "He had a clause in his contract, something to do with the wrong lattes . I tried not to take it personally." He slipped into full schmooze mode as the director approached them.

"Ricky! Good to see you!" He shook Castle's hand two-handed with practiced Hollywood charm: habitual but not unpleasant. He turned to Kate. "And this can only be the lovely Detective Beckett."

Castle confirmed with a smile. "She is indeed. Kate, this is Dylan Edwards."

Edwards reached out to take her hand. "So glad to finally meet you."

"You as well, Mr. Edwards."

"Please, call me Dylan!" He leaned forward as if about to share a confidence. "I know you're not big on publicity, but I really appreciate you coming out tonight. If you can stand it, there are some folks in the press pit over there who would love to get a quote from the 'real Nikki Heat'." He air-quoted to show he was above the buzz words himself. "What it's like to see a character based on you hit the big screen, yada yada. I know you're probably sick of those questions, but..."

"..but I'm happy to represent the NYPD in any way I can," she finished gamely.

"Atta girl," he said. "And of course they'll want to talk with you too, Ricky," he added diplomatically.

Castle brushed it off. "No, no, it's okay. I know when I've been upstaged by a lady with a gun." Edwards laughed and encouraged them to get a drink, then continued on his circuit of the room. Taking his advice, they headed for the bar.

Castle ordered two vodka martinis, then leaned forward to within secret-voice distance. "This may be more complicated than I thought."

"No kidding," she said. "You told me there would be cameras. You didn't say anything about actual interviews."

"Didn't I?" He wasn't looking at her, but she couldn't tell if he was evading or just distracted. He was eyeing something across the room like it might smell bad, if it were close enough for him to actually smell it.

"What are you staring at, Castle?"

"There's a DJ." He said it like an accusation. "There's no band, and there's no dance floor. What self-respecting '30's-themed nightclub doesn't have a dance floor and at least a jazz combo?"

She assessed the room. "I'm guessing the dance floor was moved to make room for the tables that were moved to make room for the press pit over there." A mini-fortress of temporary screens provided backdrops for the lighting and camera crews set up in the corner. Kate could practically see the wheels spinning in Castle's head.

"All right, not a problem," he said. "Here's what we do–"

Kate cut him off with a gesture from her martini hand. "What we do is toast to the fact that our friends and family are alive and well, we try to enjoy this party, at some point we drop the bomb, and then we go home and break out that chocolate ice cream I heard you stashing in my freezer."

Unlike his party charm version, this smile reached the center of his eyes, full of the warmth and admiration and twinkle that made her stomach do a pleasant twist every time he aimed it at her. He raised his drink and simply said, "To life," and their glasses met with a small clink.

She then downed the whole thing in one swig.

"If I'm going to give interviews, I'll need at least one more of these."

* * *

**TBC**

_One part left, I think._


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N**:_ Thanks again for all the reviews and adds! They've been very encouraging, helpful, etc. If I needed further proof that Castle fans are made of awesome (I didn't), this experience would do it._

**DISCLAIMER**: Mr. Marlowe and the nice people at ABC own Castle. But I wrote this.

* * *

An hour later they were still mingling with actors, directors, agents, and assorted members of the production crew, and they still hadn't done what they'd come here to do. The stupid Band-Aid was still on, but instead of featuring pictures of princesses or action heroes, it said "JUST FRIENDS— NO, SERIOUSLY" in big, black, lying letters.

Beckett just wanted this evening over with. It wasn't that she hated the event. If she didn't have yet another major life disruption looming right overhead, she might actually be enjoying herself. But it was looming, like Pooh's little black rain cloud. If only they could find the right moment. We've got motive, thought Beckett, but the means and opportunity are still eluding us. She was desperate enough to feel almost nostalgic for Castle's over-dramatic Plan A.

X-X-X-X-X

They had just been introduced to Hannah Silver, the actress playing Nikki Heat, when Castle was pulled away by Gina for some shop talk with a few execs from Black Pawn. He tried to at least appear attentive as they talked about sales numbers for the movie tie-in mass market of _Heat Wave_, but his attention was divided between business and the pleasure of trying to watch Kate out of the corner of his eye without being too obvious. He was also trying to come up with a Plan B that would not spook her and/or land him in the doghouse. He briefly contemplated tapping his glass with a fork and simply announcing that he was madly in love with Kate Beckett, and that for some reason she wanted him too. No, she would probably kill him. Dedication of his next book? Not soon enough. Sky writer? Too dark.

He was so preoccupied that he hadn't noticed that the execs had moved on, and Gina was trying to get his attention. "Rick? Rick!"

"Hmm? What?"

She rolled her eyes in a way that was a direct transplant from their marriage. "You could at least pretend to show an interest in promoting your own book. If this is how you're going to be in September when_ Frozen Heat_ drops, it's going to be a very long month. For both of us."

He finally gave her his full attention, but she didn't get the biting retort she expected. "Thank you, Gina."

She blinked. "For what?"

"For being a good publisher. For having my back, professionally. I know I'm not always your easiest client, but thank you."

She frowned at the rare show of earnestness from him. "Rick, what's wrong? Good God, are you dying?"

He looked alarmed. "No! Do I have to be on my death bed to want to mend a few fences?"

"Well, something big must have happened to—" Realization dawned on her face. "It's her, isn't it? Your detective. It finally happened."

His detective. His Kate. Castle's eyes automatically found her across the room, talking to Hannah Silver. When she met his gaze a moment later, she had a look on her face he couldn't interpret. What were they talking about? He asked with his eyebrows, but apparently it wasn't something she could convey telegraphically.

Gina caught the shared look and softened slightly into a resigned sigh. "It was always a matter of time. I've never seen you like this with anyone, Rick. Certainly not with me, even when we were happy." With that, her shields went back up. "Just don't forget to come out of your love haze long enough to meet your deadlines."

Castle smiled. From his ex-wife/ex-girlfriend/publisher, that was as close to approval as he could hope for. "Gina, you're a class act." He kissed her cheek.

"I know. Now go get the future Mrs. Castle and smile for the cameras. You're up."

X-X-X-X-X

Hannah Silver had been cast to play Nikki Heat after Natalie Rhodes's sudden rehab-related exit from the production. While she didn't use Natalie's uncanny (and somewhat disturbing) method of getting inside her roles, her portrayal of Nikki seemed convincing enough from the previews. For a movie cop, Beckett amended to herself.

Once she and Kate were alone, Hannah told the detective. "I have to confess, I've been a little nervous about meeting you."

Beckett looked surprised. "About meeting me? Why?"

"It's hard enough portraying a character by an author with a fan following as rabid as Rick has," she said. "Throw in a real-life, kick-ass inspiration and you've got an intimidating list of things to not measure up to."

Kate decided she liked the woman's candor. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, at least I don't have rabid fans that will tweet about your every move."

Hannah gave her a measured look and nodded across the room towards Castle, who was still talking with Gina. "I don't know about the tweets, but I'd say you have at least one rabid fan."

Kate didn't bother to confirm or deny; she just smiled and didn't say anything. Here we go— what was Plan B, again?

Hannah continued. "People make jokes about you two researching the sex scenes. You're definitely together, but I'm betting those aren't your scenes on the page. Want to know how I can tell?"

Kate was intrigued enough to take the bait. "How?"

"It's the way he looks at you when he thinks no one's watching. It's not just love; it's awe. A man who feels that way about you doesn't sell your most intimate moments. If you'll forgive the presumption, I'm guessing you two have some pretty amazing love scenes of your own, but I'll never read a play-by-play in one of his books. They're too precious to him to ever share."

Kate was speechless for a moment as her eyes went from Hannah to Castle, and she found he was already looking at her. He smiled a little, the hint of a question on his face. "You're very perceptive," Kate said, equal parts cautious and relieved that at least one person in this room finally knew. "You may have missed your calling as an actual detective."

The actress smiled. "I doubt it. I'm useless around blood. Even the fake stuff on set turns my stomach." She glanced across the room, where Castle was now being escorted to the press pit and beckoning Kate to join him. "It looks like they're ready for you."

Kate gave Hannah a parting look and said, "I doubt it." An idea was forming, and she needed to act now before she had too much time to think about it.

X-X-X-X-X

They were standing side by side in front of the cameras. An entertainment reporter on Castle's side of the shot (he suspected that she considered it her good side) was asking the questions, sticking to the standard news-ertainment script: How did they meet? How much were his books based on real murder cases and the real detective beside him? Did he really help her solve cases? What was it like for her to see Nikki Heat on screen? Were they looking forward to the release of the new film? Castle had fielded these questions so often he could do it on auto-pilot. Good thing, too, because he was more than a little distracted by how quiet Beckett was, answering only when she had to with short, monosyllabic responses. Was she nervous about being on camera without her badge and an active case to hide behind? Or was she just pissed at him for dragging her into this?

The next question shouldn't have surprised him, but it did. "Rick and Kate, there has been speculation about the two of you ever since the first Nikki Heat book came out. Will you comment on the rumors that your relationship is more than just professional?"

Shit. He should have been ready for this. But if the evening had gone according to Plan A, they would have answered this question already. With dancing. And sweeping. And fricking Rodgers and Hart. Instead, he forced a laugh that came out more alarming than casual and said, "Wow, that is an old rumor. It's, ah, certainly true that Detective Beckett and I have become good frie—"

"Castle." Kate cut him off abruptly. He turned and found her standing much closer than he was expecting. She locked eyes with him, green on blue, and simply said, "Plan B."

Then she grabbed his lapels, pulled him to her, and kissed him beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Once he recovered from the initial shock, he brought his hands up to frame her face, angling his mouth over hers. She loosened her hold on his lapels and slid her hands around his sides to his shoulder blades. The resolve of her initial attack softened into a sweet, deep, lingering kiss. After several moments they broke it off, sharing a small smile before rejoining the real world.

Well, he thought. That works.

Beckett looked around Castle's shoulder at the stunned reporter, who for once had no pithy comment to add.

"Does that answer your question?"

X-X-X-X-X

They didn't leave much time for follow-up questions. The bomb was dropped, the truth was out there, and now Kate just wanted to get on with her life. Their life. They exchanged a few farewells, Castle fielded a few call-me's, and they were out the door almost before the reporters had a chance to finish the calls to their editors informing them of the additional inches or seconds they would need for tomorrow's story.

With few celebrities coming or going at this point in the party, most of the crowd outside had dispersed. From the relative freedom of the sidewalk, they both took a deep breath of night air, in and out. Castle cocked an eyebrow. "See? Easy."

Beckett scoffed, having used up all her gracious nods and smiles inside. "For me, maybe. I thought you were going to have a stroke when she asked you to 'comment on the rumors.'"

"No, the near-stroke came after that, when I was suddenly attacked on nationally syndicated television."

Beckett sighed. "We are going to get so much crap for this tomorrow."

Castle grinned. "Yeah, we are."

The car had arrived. Before climbing through the open door, Castle put his arms around her waist and asked, "Now tell me the truth: good first date? Or best first date ever?" She slid out of his embrace and onto the leather seat. He continued making his case through the open door. "Allow me to recap a few of the highlights to help you decide:"

Beckett stuck her head back out. "Shut up and get in the car, Castle. Date's not over yet."

He sincerely hoped he knew what she meant by that. "Good point. Save the recap for morning." He slid into his seat, closed the door behind him, then kept sliding well into her seat. They did their best to add a few more highlights on the way home.

* * *

_Okay, there it is. Thanks for reading! I'm working up the courage to post my story that falls before this one, even though I'm not sure exactly where it's going. Or how it's getting there. So stay tuned if you're interested. ~PE_


End file.
